Child's Play
by wellrunaway
Summary: Ahem, I'm terrible at summaries. Draco Malfoy is now a father, unfortunately this child has the condition of Asperger's. The only person who understands what it is and can help him is none other than Hermione.
1. Night Drive

**CHAPTER ONE: NIGHT DRIVE**

"He's a SQUIB! Just admit it now, Draco!" Astoria Greengrass yelled, flinging clothes into a large suitcase.

"He's FINE! Maybe you would notice that if you didn't run around SHOPPING ALL DAY!" Draco exclaimed, pacing in the doorway of their bedroom. He looked weary from nights filled with arguments and lacking sleep.

Draco and Astoria started talking immediately after the war, after Lucius had been sent to Azkaban. Narcissa and Draco had been let off by testimonies by Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. The parts of the newspaper-dubbed "Golden Trio" had proclaimed that neither Draco, nor Narcissa had seemed in any way violent towards them when they were trapped in the Malfoy Manor. It seemed they could not bring themselves to lie about Lucius' involvement. Draco's father had been sentenced for a lifetime in prison.

Astoria and her family had stopped to pay condolences to the Malfoys, as was tradition in the upper class. No matter the tragedy or issue, it seemed that holding up appearances is most important. There had been a tea for all the women; Astoria had snuck off to have a smoke and ran into Draco. They had talked in his family's garden all afternoon.

The memory was clear in his mind. Astoria's hair had been braided elegantly down her back and she wore a floral sundress in the appropriate shades of blacks and grays. She had walked with utmost grace, perching herself next to him on a concrete wall. Coolly, she pulled out a cigarette, placing it between her lips like an advertisement. Draco didn't particularly like smoking, but he couldn't say she looked unattractive. She had complained about how stuffy high teas seemed to her. The conversation had flowed from there, slipping easily from puppies to palaces and all the topics in between, but nothing too deep or personal.

After that day, they decided to have a relationship; both for separate and selfish reasons. Draco wanted someone to take away the raw feeling of loneliness; Astoria was in it for a higher social standing and money.

Their relationship moved very fast because of an accident. Draco and Astoria had both gotten drunk at one of their families dinners and had sex, both forgetting about protection in the heat of the moment. A week later, after Draco guiltily avoided her, Astoria showed up in his fireplace, announcing she was pregnant. They had tried to keep it under wraps, but word eventually got around. Astoria's mother and Narcissa had decided that their children must be wed; it was protocol after all. Malfoy had avoided the matter by only engaging her and brushing off any questions of when they would be married.

Looking at the situation he was in now, he was relieved it hadn't gone as far as marriage. After the birth of their child, Marcus Lucius Malfoy, Astoria had made herself as scarce as possible, hiring a nanny for whenever she planned to be out. The only time she was really around was at Marcus' fifth birthday. Five was the age wizards could start showing their magic, without much control. When he did not do anything remotely magical, Astoria had left, yelling all the way.

Astoria slammed shut her case and turned around, looking weary. "I'm going to my mother's. We need to come up with an excuse of why I need a break."

"A break? A break from what? Spending my money?" Draco growled. "This isn't a break. We're done."

Astoria's jaw fell to the floor. "You're not going to care for a kid on your own. Really, you're no good with children."

"Bloody hell." Draco ran his hands through his hair. "I HAVE been taking care of Marcus on my own. You only come home when it's fucking convenient. The NANNY might as well be his mother."

"Come on, Draco. I haven't been a mother before; I don't know what to do, neither of us does." She approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The man turned away. "Go. We're not going to miss you." He pushed the hand away. Astoria gasped and turned away.

"Fuck you." She said and left suitcase and all. Draco sighed; glad he had sent Marcus to Narcissa for the day. His hands went to his hair again, trying to wrap his brain around everything. Then he heard a voice from the door. "You forgot something." He heard clacking steps, but continued to gaze at the wooden floorboards. Astoria's bony fingers grabbed his wrist and placed something cold and metallic in his palm.

The ring. It was a symbol of their entire sham of a relationship. It had been genuine at first, they wanted to be together casually. But it was all a mistake. Astoria had changed right after that night, becoming a cold bitch. He heard doors slam and released a rush of air again. At least there wouldn't be anymore fighting.

"Marmy." The former Slytherin said. His house elf popped in the room, its large, blue eyes filled with sadness for her master. "Please make sure that all of Miss Greengrass' items are out of the house. Owl anything left over so she doesn't have to come back."

"Yes, sir. I will see to it. Does sir desire anything to eat?" Marmy asked, her raspy voice filled with concern. "You didn't have lunch because you were in discussion with Miss."

"No, that's not necessary." He replied. "I shall eat at mother's when I go to pick up Marcus."

"Very good, sir." A small pop and the elf vanished.

What would he do now? The young Malfoy had expected the discussion of Astoria's absence to increase her time in the house, not eliminate it completely. He was fortunate that he had gotten so much time off of work, but he figured all the older writers of the Daily Prophet felt sympathy for new parents.

Draco Malfoy had been working in the Quidditch Coverage department of the Daily Prophet for eight years, from right after the war until now. Narcissa had fixed the position up for him, as she was a good friend to the editor-in-chief. At first, the decision had been made for Draco to write anonymously and only cover minor issues, but as the editor noticed his hard work he was offered to run the department, picking the articles he wished. That was when Marcus came along. Draco had to refuse the position and stick to covering any trades or off-field news from home. He thought maybe Astoria would stay home more, so he could return to work at least three days a week. He had staff meetings Thursday evenings and that was the only time he really got out of the house.

The man proceeded to get into his bedroom fireplace, muttering Malfoy Manor before throwing in Floo Powder and being engulfed by smoke. Moments later, he emerged in a wide, but plain room. The only objects in the room were hooks lining the wall. It was common for prominent families that hosted large groups of people to have a so-called Travel or Between room where newcomers arrived out of the way and could place their cloaks.

Draco entered the house to find his mother drinking a cup of tea on an ornate cream couch in their living room. Marcus was sitting on the floor. A small book was perched on his lap and he was furrowing his brow intently at it. The youngest Malfoy was much more interested in books than conversation. In fact, he had learned to read before he began to speak. Small instances like this, abnormal conditions, made Draco sure his son possessed magic.

The former Slytherin cleared his throat, alerting his mother and son to his presence. Narcissa smiled, although a weary one, at the sight of her offspring. She was graceful in aging, although the woman appeared saddened as of late. Her house was too large for just one body. Draco felt a slight guilt for leaving to move into a flat with Astoria, especially considering how it worked out. Unfortunately, his pride refused to let him return, as well as a general hate of the house and happenings that had occurred with in its walls.

"Draco, darling. It's lovely to see you. A little earlier than expected." His mother noted, glancing at a small wooden clock on the table. She crossed the room and gave his kisses on both cheeks.

"Well, I planned on staying for dinner." The man said, noticing the instant brightness behind her eyes. He had let her eat too many meals alone, not come over enough.

Narcissa signaled for an elf to begin making dinner. Draco knew it would be his favorite, steak and potatoes. "Is Astoria joining us?" His mother's disposition was considerably cheerier as she returned to her seat.

Draco sighed, settlings himself in a stiff-backed arm chair. "No, I'm afraid I have news." He gulped nervously, clearing his throat. "Astoria and I are no longer engaged. We had differences that couldn't be resolved any other way. I am taking custody of Marcus." Their heads turned to the seven-year-old on the floor. His grey eyes blinked at them, recognizing his name. He gave a small grin and waved at his father, who waved back. Draco's own facial expression mirrored the smile of his child, even as they returned to their previous endeavors.

"May I ask what was so terrible?" Narcissa asked, frowning. Her son shook his head.

"I'd rather not ruin our time together with such a disappointing discussion."

"I see. As for disappointing discussions, I have something I need to talk to you about. It's rather important. Let's go into the other room quickly." She stood and bustled out. Draco followed, turning to look at Marcus. He hadn't even lifted his blonde head from his book. When nestled in a small library, Narcissa turned. "I believe something is wrong with Marcus. Every time I've seen him, he hasn't performed magic. You haven't talked about securing him a spot at Hogwarts. And it's not just that. He doesn't enjoy talking at all. He's been reading all day. I encourage literature, but really. I've only gotten one word answers aside from a lecture on all the books he's read this month."

"I'm sure he is magical." Draco insisted, a small part to convince himself as well. "But I am going to St. Mungo's tomorrow for a check up on him." He patted her wrist. "Your concern isn't necessary. He will be alright. He is fine."

The rest of the evening was filled with small talk, but in the back of his mind, Draco couldn't fight the sensation. What if his son wasn't a wizard?

_I know you__  
><em>_so better than the city in the rear view__  
><em>_I drive to__  
><em>_eliminate the ball that I'm chained to___

_Take me break me__  
><em>_every mile further there's a part of me that slips away__  
><em>_One day you'll see__  
><em>_Even if you go down on your knees you couldn't make me stay_

Night Drive – The All-American Rejects

A/N: Hey guys! I'm really excited about this idea. I hope you all are too. Please read and review. Major thanks go out to my betas Kairi9889 and AussieGleekFreak91. You guys should read their stories. (: If anyone has any other song suggestions for this or future chapters, please message me. I love hearing about new music or getting new ideas.


	2. Learning to Fall

**CHAPTER TWO: LEARNING TO FALL**

"Please, hurry." Ginny called up the stairs of Hermione's quarters in the school. She was wearing a sundress and her hair was tied up in an elegant knot. She sighed, looking at the modern, black clock hanging against a turquoise wall. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny always went to a dinner together on Fridays, to make sure they all stayed in touch. These dinners always began at seven sharp, two minutes from the present. "Hermione!"

"Coming!" The brunette called, clacking down the stairs with one shoe on her foot and the other in her hand. "I'm so sorry, Gin. I'm sure Harry's out there waiting too. Bugger." She sloppily slid the other sandal on her foot at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair was clipped to the side and she wore a simple white blouse and black pants.

"Don't worry. We can get there a little late; I'm sure Ron won't mind." Ginny said, simply. "He's normally the late one anyways." Her eyes were alive with happiness. Everyone had been much happier after the loose ends of the war had been tied.

Ginny opened the door to Harry, standing awkwardly in the hall. He was accustomed to the usual pre-dinner 'girl time' but never knew how to act about it. He didn't feel as if he could go in and banter about whether or not the shoes matched the outfit. Both the women stepped out into the corridor, smiling at him. Harry returned the grin, wrapping his arm around Ginny's waist. Harry and Ginny had dated for about seven months after the final battle at Hogwarts before their marriage, and now they were happier than ever.

The three of them arrived in the Three Broomsticks about fifteen minutes after the set time. The late August air had made for a pleasant walk and it seemed even cozier in the pub while the weather was still warm. Harry and Hermione had talked about their various classes of the week. Harry was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, effective immediately after the school was rebuilt. Hermione had taken up the position as the Transfiguration teacher, relieving Professor, now Headmistress, McGonagall of some of her duties.

Crossing the room, Hermione spotted Ron's bright red hair in the round corner booth they normally used. As she approached, she saw another head in the both. This one had long, dirty blonde hair. Her hand was on the table, with Ron's on top of it. Hermione's breath caught, as if her throat had sealed up at the sight. She struggled but finally cleared it, plastering on a fake smile.

"Hello!" Her voice chimed out, sounding a lot cheerier than she felt. The woman and Ron both looked up from their whispered conversation, smiles appearing across their visages. Harry and Ginny also called out warm greetings to the pair. Hermione's eyes bore into the blonde's, trying to place her familiarity.

The three of them joined Ron and the woman in the circular booth, Hermione plopping in last. The male Weasley smiled widely. "This is Briar. Briar used to be in Ravenclaw." Hermione gasped. She had remembered Briar, a year above them and incredibly intelligent. This woman seemed to shine, from her hair, to her nails, to her square teeth. Hermione sighed, running her hands through her frizzy mane that she had secured to the side.

"Lovely to meet you." Ginny said, always the most charming of the group.

Hermione gulped nervously. "Yes, erm, great. I think I've, uh, seen you in the library. At, er, Hogwarts, years ago." She stammered. She felt hot, as if she had just run a long way.

Hermione felt all the memories come rushing back throughout the course of dinner. It all started with The Kiss. She had done it, what she'd been waiting to do for years. Her fears of losing him had taken hold and her lips met his in what felt like a magical moment. It seemed like their relationship would work out, be perfect. Then Ron faced the loss of his brother. She didn't know what do for him. All he had wanted was to sit for days, and that is what he did. The girl hadn't known what to do, she hadn't lost her parents in that way. Losing them had come as a choice to her, to keep them safe. After months of constant unresponsiveness, even after all of Hermione's attempts at comfort, she had to leave the Burrow to take her job at Hogwarts. The next month, seemingly instant, Ron was alright. He went on constant, public outings with various women and became a very public person, the opposite of Hermione. She had held her candle for Ron and avoided the spotlight that the reporters had tried to thrust upon her. She rejected the interview requests and never offered comments to the photographers that seemed to always follow her.

This whole evening was getting on her nerves, from her lateness at the pub to the mindless conversation. Briar seemed so perfect, in a genuine way that left Hermione feeling bitter. After the battle, she had converted her cousin's Hogsmeade house into a recovery home for those with injuries too serious to send them all the way to St. Mungo's. She tended to those patients every day, healing them both physically and psychologically.

Harry and Ginny were both getting along with her. They laughed at the jokes she told, asked her questions, and listened to stories. The blonde cooed about how Ron asked her out when they stumbled into each other in Madame Malkin's. Hermione rolled her eyes hearing that she was there to pick out a dress for a get-together she had been planning.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore, watching everyone get so close to Briar. She stood. "It's been lovely, but I have to go prepare Portkeys for the class trip Tuesday."

Lie. Hermione's class did make trips once a month to St. Mungo's, but she had already given the information the Magical Transportation Department had needed, the Portkeys had already been sent, received, and activated for two departure times. All of this had been done when the teacher could, and maybe should, have been getting ready for the dinner she was currently leaving.

Instead of going back to the school, Granger turned the opposite way, following the path down to The Hog's Head. It hadn't gotten any cleaner, but Hermione was certainly less intimidated by the dilapidated building. She pushed open a wooden door, scarred with old spell marks and other scrapings. The pub was ever dingy and the air was hot, as if the remains of summer were stuck inside. She sat on a stool at the bar, smiling wanly at Aberforth.

"Looks like you could use the good stuff." He said in a raspy voice.

"Yes, I'll have a firewhiskey." The brunette ordered. She had never had one before, but figured tonight was the time to start. Albus' brother placed a glass with a dark amber liquid in front of her. She took a small sip. An acrid burning began in the back of her mouth, travelling down her esophagus until it reached her stomach. She grimaced then forced another gulp down.

Hermione was a light-weight. It had been proven her sixth year, when four glasses of butterbeer had left her feeling like the world was spinning. Now, she felt light-headed after two glasses of firewhiskey, although the glasses were much larger than she expected. She knew it was time to go, before things got worse. At least, she could blame the watering of her eyes on the hot beverage.

Aberforth shook his head when he caught her digging in her purse and patted her shoulder. It was a comforting notion from a person without the most reassuring demeanor. Hermione gave a tight smile, her eyes tearing even more at the kindness. She bade him a shaky good night and cautiously walked out the door. She was trying to keep steady as she walked down the deserted road. Everyone was either asleep, or in a pub or house.

The former Gryffindor reveled in the quiet of the evening, relieved no one was out to witness her stumbling around the street. She hiccoughed, a high-pitched noise. The cough made her giggle until she felt the acid burble in her stomach again. She really needed to get home and see if she could get a potion to clear her head.

Up ahead, the column of light and noise appeared across the stone road. Ron, Briar, Ginny, and Harry were all exiting The Three Broomsticks. They were talking and laughing, standing right where Hermione needed to go. "Shit." She spun around, trying to find somewhere to hide. She stumbled a bit, but caught herself against the wall of Zonko's. She took a deep breath, feeling the firewhiskey slosh in her abdomen.

The professor watched Ron and Briar walk away from the others, his arm slung over her shoulder. Fortunately, they were walking away from Hermione. The pair reached a quaint brick house and disappeared inside together. The brunettes eyes stung with tears, a few dripping down her face already. She pushed herself off the wall and continued stumbling towards the castle. She swore again as she tripped on a cobblestone, louder this time.

Ginny heard the noise and looked over her shoulder. She let out a small gasp, seeing her friend pushing herself of the ground. "Oh Merlin." She turned, jogging in her sandals until she reached the brunette. "Hermione Jean Granger, WHAT are you doing?" Her voice was sharp, but her hand gentle as she pulled the older woman up.

Hermione hiccoughed again. "I just want to go home." She was really crying now, tears rolling down her face one after the other. Ginny put her arm around her friend, who was slightly shorter, rubbing her back.

Harry had walked up with a look of bewilderment, quickly replaced by realization. He hugged his long-time friend tightly. "It was him, wasn't it?" He whispered in her ear. Hermione sniffled, nodding into his shoulder. "Let's get you back to the castle." Harry and Ginny arranged themselves on either side of the brunette, propping her up when she lost her footing.

When they arrived at Hermione's quarters in castle, Ginny sent Harry away, claiming this was a time for girl talk. She gave him a quick kiss and assured him that she'd be home tomorrow. Hermione had already changed into a pair of warm flannels. The Weasley girl tucked her into her warm bed, bringing her hot cocoa with small marshmallows that had been spiked with an anti-hangover potion. Ginny hopped into the bed as well, stroking her friend's hair.

The last thing Hermione heard before she was wrapped in the folds of slumber was her friend's whisper. "You don't have to wait for him, you know?"

_I'm learning to fall, I can hardly breathe_

_When I'm going down, don't worry 'bout me_

_Don't try this at home, pretend you don't see_

_I don't want to know that you know_

_It should've been me_

Learning to Fall – Boys Like Girls

A/N: Thanks for all the favorites, please review lovelies.

Hermioniac: I am going to try and update once a week, but I'm letting the writing flow and I have research to do to get things right so it could take a little longer.

If anyone knows a child with Asperger's and has any habits you would like to see included in the story, please message me. I'm going off research and the actions of my cousin with Autism, but any auditions would be appreciated.

Please suggest your favorite songs in reviews or messages. :)

Once again, thanks to my betas: AussieGleekFreak91 & Kairi9889. Thanks to xoprincessmalfoy for bouncing off song ideas for this chapter.


	3. The Moth

**CHAPTER THREE: THE MOTH**

The weekend seemed to go quickly for Hermione. This was mostly because she was trying to keep herself busy, giving herself small tasks to get ready for the week to come. She had already written out lessons plans for her fourth year and under classes and found a replacement for the day.

Currently, the professor was pulling her hair up into a high knot in her classroom, waiting for her fifth years to arrive. They were due in five minutes and the brunette had to explain the nature of their trip before departure. Two twin girls entered the room, Ravenclaws. They tittered their good mornings to their teacher and sat in the front. "Good morning, Anabelle, Athena." Hermione nodded at each in turn.

Two minutes later, the classroom was full. Fifteen kids sat in tables, smiling and chatting with each other about how their first week back at school was going, summer stories, what they hoped to score on their OWLs, and what career paths they wanted to take. Hermione smiled, remembering how much studying and obsessing she had done her fifth year. She cleared her throat, and clapped drawing the attention of the students. All thirty eyeballs were fixed on her, anxious about their impending tasks.

"Welcome class." Hermione beamed; she was always extra happy when they got to take their trips. "Now, Hogwarts isn't just a place to learn about spells, potions, and history. Our job is to teach you about life as well. That's what we're doing today. We are all going to St. Mungo's. Everyone will have separate jobs, based on their strengths. I will discuss this with your teachers after three trips. First, I'm going escort each of you to a room and you will talk and visit with patients." A dark-hair Slytherin shot his hand up with a smirk to his friends. "Yes, Roger?"

"These people won't…infect us? Right? I don't want to ruin my looks." He said, raising his eyebrows. The Anabelle shot a dirty look at the brown haired wizard. Athena just turned, shrugging off his comment. A handful of Slytherin boys and girls laughed, his closer friends slapping him on the back. A girl named Hanna placed her hand over his, laughing a little too much.

It was surprising how easily Hermione recognized the signs of attraction now that she was older. Teen flirting seemed so obvious from an adult perspective. The professor smiled inwardly, ignoring the bite of bitterness leftover from her disaster dinner on Friday. She made a mental note to pair them together; Hanna seemed to have a better bedside manner and would make sure Roger played nice, but her biting wit placed her in Slytherin.

"Ahem, if you take that kind of tone in the hospital, you will most likely get a zero." Hermione lied. There were no grades on this project; it was done so she could get closer to what she hoped was her future. For her, teaching seemed like a place holder. She hoped that one day she would be offered a permanent position at St. Mungo's. Any position would do, she just felt healing was her calling. "Anyways, you won't be working with people who are in for contagious diseases. Just those who have prolonged treatments that could use some brightness in their day."

Roger frowned slightly. He had always tried to get a reaction out of her. It seemed to be a game with the Slytherins. Who could annoy the Transfiguration teacher the most? She knew some of them disliked her because their relations were Death Eaters, Roger Lestrange in particular, but their antics seemed like childish games. She overcompensated their hostility with a sugar sweet reply and smile, just like her last reaction to Roger. He set her on edge the most, but she tried her best to keep him from getting to her. She always let him get a seat in the back, even when he was being disruptive, to avoid seeing Bellatrix's dark eyes boring into her own chocolate ones.

"Anyways, I'm assigning you to pairs and you will spend a half hour in each room. I do not want you bragging about your accomplishments. Ask these people about their stories, inform them about current events, and most importantly, listen." Professor Granger said, her voice mimicked that of giving an answer when she was younger. It was sharp and direct. She added a smile to soften her mini-lecture. "Now, come to the front and I'll tell you your pairs. I'd like to speak with Athena and Anabelle first though."

The twins sauntered up to the front, their strawberry blonde hair flowing long past their shoulders. They stepped out into the hall upon Hermione's beckon. The professor followed them out. "You two are my best students, and as you've noticed the Slytherins aren't too keen on this idea. I need to pair you with them, so you can make sure they behave."

"Not Roger? Please…" Anabelle said, sticking out her gloss coated lip. Hermione chewed her own bare lips. When did it become so mandatory to be made up? She never wore any magical make-up or hair products her school days, except for the Yule Ball. Then again, these girls had been seen with boys on their arms. Hermione was stuck with Ron at arms length all through school. Athena looked up at her professor with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, hoping to avoid the Lestrange boy, Hermione thought.

"No. I'm pairing him with Hanna." Anabelle gave a wide, relieved smile, nudging her sister with glee. The other girl pursed her lips, then cracked them into a small smile, with less voltage then Anabelle's 100 watt grin. "You will go with Jeremy, Anabelle. Athena, I'm partnering you with David." The brunette ushered her students back into the room, nodding at them to talk to their partners. "The rest of you please come up here to get your partners."

After Miss Granger set up her pairings, she brought the fifth year students to meet the sixth and seventh years in the Entrance Hall. The older students were already in the groups from their assignments last year. Hermione grinned; she was glad everyone still looked excited for the trip. She pulled out a bag of marbles, each portkeys to the hospital. A few were set to go off to specific departments of the hospital, all coordinated for the older students. The others we set for the entrance so Hermione could explain the jobs the sixth and seventh years were doing to the fifth years and make sure they met with the nurses that would show them around.

Draco held his son's hand outside the large clothing shop that stood as cover for St. Mungo's Hospital. He wore his nicest suit, opposite of Marcus' casual jeans and shirt, chosen that morning. In the seven year old's other hand was a book, as always. Draco bought him so many books, that he had exhausted wizarding stories and made his way into the Muggle world of literature.

The blonde man sighed and gritted his teeth, approaching a glass display with a tattered, cream dress on an old, wooden mannequin. He leaned until he was almost kissing it, still grasping his child's hand. "Doctor Black"

The former Slytherin had soon found that some of the most successful members of his family had become that way by their acceptance of Muggle-borns. He had never known any of them until recently, because of his parents shunned their relatives of a more 'modern' perspective. Now, as his father stayed in prison, he was free to explore and reap the benefits of his family members who had their named blackened on the family tapestry. This particular relative, a second or third cousin to his mother, had organized the entire hospital, getting it to run on maximum efficiency. After his stint in management, he returned as an on-call doctor to all the departments. He had seen to all appointments for Marcus and Draco would continue seeing him.

Malfoy gently guided Marcus through the now transparent glass, arriving in a glistening crowded lobby. On their right, there were grated elevators similar to those of the ministry but on a greater scale to fit any stretchers or levitated bodies. On the left of the large foyer, desks of pristine glass with witches and wizards displaying the most plastic smiles perched behind. The seemingly identical people continued on mindless tasks, whether it was giving directions, writing memos, or filling out other forms. A boring line of work if you asked the Quidditch writer. In the center of the large hall, there were cushioned chairs, arranged in neat lines and circles of every color of the rainbow . Their occupants all looks haggard, their brows furrowed in concern, or relieved, bright smiles across their visages.

Draco turned to his son. "Look at me." The blue eyes that resembled his own barely met his, before dropping to his father's chin, then his tie, then to the ground. The older Malfoy shook his head slightly. "I need to talk to that woman –" He pointed at a red head sitting at the closest desk, chewing on a Sugar Quill "- it will only take a moment. Please read and don't move until I get back." Marcus nodded, his brown hair flopping. The former Slytherin lifted his child onto one the chairs, this one upholstered in a garish orange color.

The twenty-four year old approached the desk, glancing back almost every five seconds at his offspring. "Excuse me, madam." The ginger receptionist glanced up, looking almost bored, returning to her paper for a moment. Then she slowly did a double take and a wide smile crossed her face.

"I'm a miss." She said flirtatiously. "Lorina, Mr. Malfoy." Of course she had heard of him. Draco suppressed a groan as the woman ogled him.

"Yes, Lorina. I need to see Doctor Black." His voice was a step away from annoyance. The woman was trying to be seductive, sucking on her quill and batting her eyelashes. "Immediately." He reminded when she made no action. Lorina seemed to snap into action, scribbling a note and throwing it.

The note seemed to burst, but it merely changed shapes into an origami crane. Draco's eyes followed it to one of the grates, before resting them on his son. Marcus was reading, his nose almost touching the pages. The blonde smiled at the sight. "Ahem," Lorina feigned a cough. "You know, we took the flying note idea from the Ministry, just made it prettier. I noticed you watching."

"Fascinating." Malfoy said, his voice conveying that he found it the opposite. He didn't even take the time to look at the woman. Instead, he watched the masses of people coming and going, taking the machines up and down. A woman with unruly brown hair led a group of teenagers through the lobby to one of the machines, expanding it with a wave of her wand. All the children stampeded inside and waited to disappear into the ceiling.

From one of the machines next to the group, a dark haired man in white robes emerged. He spotted Draco and approached, smiling genially. Malfoy briefly thanked Lorina for her time and walked up to Marcus. "Son." He whispered, trying not to frighten his child. Marcus didn't lift his dark head from the book, until his father tapped his shoulder. "The medi-wizard is here. Come along."

"Hello, Draco." Leo Black said as he neared. He had the same hollow eyes as Bellatrix did but his irises were a soft blue. His appearance could be just as intimidating as Draco's lunatic aunt, but it wasn't. This was probably because Draco had only known him as a warm person, always kind and quick to laugh. "How have you been?" He asked jovially.

"Good. Looking to get back to the office soon. How about yourself?" Draco said, forcing a tight smile. As much as he enjoyed the company of this particular relative, he wanted to get the appointment over and be reassured of his son's magical powers.

"Alright." Leo noticed the strained air of his relations manner. "What can I do for you today?" He beckoned Draco and Marcus toward one of the machines, pressing a button to open the barred door. "In the elevator."

"I need you to look at Marcus." Malfoy glanced down at his son, who was immersed in his book again, letting their voices guide him. "I'm not quite sure he's –" The former Slytherin cleared his throat, lowering his voice to a whisper. "- magical." He closed his eyes tightly. He'd just admitted it. The possibility he had produced a Squib.

"Well, I can't be definite, but there are some tests I can do." Leo said. He seemed so nonchalant; the idea of a squib in the family didn't faze him at all. It would have disgusted the people Draco had known since childhood.

"And also –" Mr. Malfoy continued in a whisper, as though his words were treacherous. "He behaves…strangely. We're not sure what it is. He isn't talkative at all, except about books. He always reads and just acts so strange."

"Being a bibliophile isn't a bad thing." His smile faded at the scowl on Draco's face. "We will look into every possibility." Leo assured solemnly.

_The Moth don't care when he sees The Flame.__  
><em>_He might get burned, but he's in the game.__  
><em>_And once he's in, he can't go back, he'll__  
><em>_Beat his wings 'til he burns them black..._

The Moth – Aimee Mann

A/N: Well, here's another one! Sorry it took so long to update. I was trying to come up with a decent song. I don't know if this quite covers it, so let me know if you have a better one for this chapter. The Moth symbolized Draco approaching the realization that his son has Asperger's. Make sense (because it doesn't really to me)?

Thanks to my wonderful betas AussieGleekFreak91 & Kairi9889. Special thanks to FBFan & For-the-Lolz for helping me with information on Asperger's.


	4. For You and Your Denial

**CHAPTER FOUR: FOR YOU AND YOUR DENIAL**

Hermione gave a huge sigh as she left the last pair with their assigned nurse. It had been less trouble than last year; Roger Lestrange being the only one really complaining. Professor Granger contemplated the young boy. He was attractive in looks, but his attitude seemed to ruin everything. Hanna was the only girl that had ever given him lingering looks or paid extra attention to him. Five years previously, Hermione had been shocked to hear that a Lestrange had entered Hogwarts School again. Apparently, Bellatrix had hidden him away at her old house, hiring an elf to look after him. She had been less shocked to find he was placed in Slytherin.

Now, the woman emerged from the elevator on the top floor. This department was the one kept most secret. She felt privileged every time the medi-witch smiled and opened the door for her. It was called the Uncureable Department. Hermione assumed the reason they kept it so secret was because of the name. It was rather foreboding; patients certainly wouldn't request a visit.

The Uncureable Department was a large part of Muggle-born acceptance during the war. St. Mungo's hid them in the uppermost level, but catered to Death Eaters so that they didn't suspect the organization's true allegiances. Although, pre- and post-war, the Uncureable Department had strictly hired Muggle-borns and a few of their relatives.

This department specialized in diseases that were unidentifiable or unable to be cured by magical means. Modern wizards recognized that they could not cure or prevent some conditions that were very fatal in Muggles, so they adapted to their normal forms of treatments. These included physical and psychological problems, ranging from cancer to eating disorders.

Anyone who worked there had to sign confidentiality agreements with enchanted quills. Rumor had it that one medi-wizard told his sister and his fingernails started peeling off. Hermione didn't really believe it, but she was such a stickler to the rules she wouldn't have mentioned it to anyone if there hadn't been consequences. She had desperately wanted to inform Briar that she in fact helped with some of the same cases and more, but had held her tongue.

Hermione always came up here after taking care of the students' needs. She trusted the nurses to answer all their questions. The brunette felt that this was where she belonged. She felt most relaxed when she was tending to people. She felt like she mattered to them more than she mattered to her students. Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she opened a door to the top floor.

An obscure receptionist that Hermione could never remember smiled brightly at her entrance. "Back again, Miss Granger. Doctor Black is with a relative right now, but I'm sure he'll be up shortly. In the meantime, Cecilia isn't having a good day. I'm sure she could use a visit." Over the last two sentences, the unidentifiable woman's smile turned sad, with fewer teeth and barely upturned corners.

Hermione's eyes sparkled, on the edge of tears. Cecilia was her favorite patient. She had come in the day that Hermione started working in the Uncureables. The single Muggle doctor that was, and is still to this day, employed, diagnosed her with severe brain cancer. Her feet, encompassed in sensible black flats, seemed to carry her to the woman's room. She always tended to her on her monthly stints at being a medi-witch and she normally came in for an hour once a week, as a visitor, to hear the woman's stories.

The woman looked peaceful. Her wrinkled face was in the calmness of slumber. Miss Granger sat in a cushioned chair pulled exceptionally close to the hospital bed and placed her soft hands on the older ones, harder with years of work, of Cecilia. Hermione's chocolate eyes absorbed every inch of her serene expression, making their way to her long silvery hair that had been braided down her shoulder. It was her wish to age as gracefully as her eldest friend, with wisdom that reflected her years but the sense not to throw it out at everyone. Wisdom is a gift to be bestowed on the worthy.

"I knew it was that time of the month." A quiet, raspy voice penetrated Hermione's thoughts. "Well, not THAT time of the month. I haven't had that in years." The old women met eyes with Hermione, giving her a small wink.

"How are you?" Hermione said. Her smile was so wide her cheeks hurt. It was a kind of smile she only got when she was with close friends, or her parents.

"Oh, dear, I am lovely. I am fully rested for our talk." Cecilia said, leaning up on her many pillows. "You look upset."

"It's –" Hermione hesitated. "-nothing. Not important anyway." She folded her hands over Cecilia's delicate, wrinkled ones.

"Really, Hermione. You are a dreadful liar." The older woman gave a sad smile to her younger friend. "We talk so I can give you my wisdom. Now, please."

"Well, it's about Ronald." Hermione began with a sigh. "He's just been so-" And with that, she was interrupted.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy roared in Leo's office. "You got nothing conclusive from ANY of the tests?" He was too furious to be thankful of the Muffliato charm his relative cast after sitting him in the room.

"We have one last place we can take him, but we need you to sign an agreement." Leo said, his calm voice cracking slighty.

"So I can't mention that you can't fucking identify ANYTHING!" Draco spat, shoving himself out of a plush, red chair. He paced around the cream and red office, rubbing hands through his hair. The blonde locks were standing on end when he turned back to Medi-wizard Black. "Give me the paper."

After a hurried explanation of where they were going, Draco returned to the examination room where Marcus was sitting on a sterilized cot. The blonde knelt down beside his son. "Marcus, son, we have one more test we need to run." The brunette looked up, his gray eyes briefly meeting his father's before fixing on the knot in his tie. "This test is going to be much, much different. It involves a machine instead of a wand. I need you to be brave for me." Marcus nodded, his eyes boring into that tie clip.

Draco grabbed his son's hand, leading him to the "elevator", as Leo called it. The Medi-wizard was already waiting for them. The Malfoys entered the elevator and Draco looked around curiously as it ascended. The room was completely nondescript, blue wallpaper and navy tiled floors. He was cut short by a tug on his hand. "Dad," Marcus said, his eyes looking excited. "After this, can I get some chicken strips?" His excitement was completely innocent.

"As many as you'd like." Draco replied, giving his son's little fingers a squeeze. He watched as the brown haired boy's face broke into a small, private smile, and he returned to looking around. He also noticed something peculiar; Marcus kept wiggling his fingers. It was as if he was playing a very complicated song on the grand piano that had sat in their living room, though Marcus had never touched it. The piano was his mother's and his mother's things were off limits. Draco hoped that it had been sent away, or at least, that Astoria would never come back for it. The finger motions were strange, deepening Draco's concern for his child.

The elevator stopped, doors opening to a carpeted hallway. The color scheme was similar to the elevator, navy blue carpets with a more robin's egg blue paint on the walls. Doors branched off in various places down the entire length, before the hall made an abrupt left turn. A woman jumped up from the desk that was in a nook near the entrance. "Doctor Black, you're back from your appointment! Earlier than expected." She noted, almost to herself, checking her watch. "Hermi-"

"Actually, the appointment isn't quite over yet." Leo cut the receptionist off, motioning for her to sit back down again. "Where is she?"

"Cecilia's room; I thought it was best she visit before starting her work for the day." The woman answered perfunctorily. She turned her eyes to Draco, widening them for an instant before giving him a look of distaste. He pondered why this was necessary until his third cousin said "Goodbye, Daphne." Daphne Greengrass. His fiancée, ex-fiancée's, sister. He looked down the hall, giving a slight nod before briskly following the medi-wizard.

"I am going to set you up in a testing room, then get our consultant to help run the tests." Leo said, navigating the sharp turn and through double doors. This hallways seemed more sterile, almost glistening with cleanliness. "Here." The doctor pushed open a door. The room awaiting was plain, yet ominous. There was a cushioned chair, with what seemed to be a scanner next to it. "Please sit, Marcus." Leo gestured to the large chair and adjusted the machine so it was level with his head. "Draco, I'm going to need you to step outside while I get some help and run the test."

For the duration of the test, Draco paced the hallway. He caught a flash of Leo and a brown-haired woman disappearing behind the door once, but other than that it was a relatively quiet stretch of time. He was going crazy, running his hands through his hair multiple times. By the time Leo emerged in the hall, no strand of hair was still lying flat. Leo's face was etched in determined lines.

"Did this bloody test work?" Draco spat, his nerves manifesting themselves into anger.

"Yes, we believe we have it pinpointed." Leo said, his voice solemn. "We believe he has Asperger's Syndrome. It is most common in non-magical persons."

"My son has a MUGGLE disease? Are you saying his a fucking SQUIB?" Malfoy bellowed, forgetting that this meeting wasn't private by means of Muffliato. "Fuck." He whispered the last word, eyes misting slightly. "What does that mean Arsejerber's?"

"As-per-ger's." He enunciated every syllable. "It affects the ability to communicate and have social interactions with others. It doesn't relate to his abilities magically, except make it difficult for them to present themselves. We can't be sure if he can or cannot produce magic."

"But how do you KNOW that's what's wrong then, if it's in his brain, if you 'can't be sure'? MAYBE HE'S JUST SHY!" Draco hissed his next words with emphasis.

"We modified a machine to examine the brain and its connections. The Prefrontal Cortex, which contains emotions, social skills, and more, was wired atypically. I talked to someone with a personal experience of the condition and she said Marcus had the correct signs." Leo hesitated, then placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "I'm very sorry."

"SORRY? How can you be SORRY? YOU AREN'T GOING THROUGH THIS!" Draco said, looking utterly defeated. "I don't know what to do." This was said in the lowest voice possible, a few tears trickling out of his blue-gray eyes.

"Marcus and my colleague are in the room. Go in when you're ready." Leo sighed, walking down the hall, a frown gracing his normally happy features.

It took Draco nearly fifteen minutes to compose himself from the overwhelming amount of different emotions. He breathed deeply, walking into the room.

"I really like Methuselah and Silent Sam. They seem to really help Matthias, but don't seem to get much credit." Marcus was jabbering away about the most recent book he was reading. It was called _Redwall_. Draco had soon exhausted wizarding stories for his son and resorted to buy at least three books a visit at a Muggle bookstore.

"Oh yes, I love Methuselah." The other person in the room, a woman with bushy brown hair, replied in a warm gentle voice. Her response wasn't noticed or reacted to as Marcus continued talking.

Draco cleared his throat, causing the woman to turn. "G-g-granger?"

"Malfoy?"

_Can you hear the crowd?_

_They'll all go wild, for you and your denial._

_They're watching you break down._

_Desperation kills, but when it's on your sleeve you wear it well._

_Underneath it all, you'll always have this war inside yourself._

For You and Your Denial – Yellowcard

A/N: Oh my goodness, I think this song is perfect… Yay or nay from my studio audience (readers)?

Thanks to my amazing betas AussieGleekFreak91 & Kairi9889. Special thanks to FBFan & For_the_Lolz


	5. Shilo

**CHAPTER FIVE: SHILO**

Hermione gasped as she uttered the name. "Marcus is your son?"

"Obviously, Granger." Malfoy answered with exhaustion coating the pair of words. "And you're the consultant?"

"Er, yes." She replied, screwing her eyes shut to take it all in. "Well, I, erm, I have to explain this to you, I suppose."

"Do. I mean, please do." He was uncertain of how to handle the situation. This girl, woman, whom he had teased mercilessly for years, was now speaking to him about his son. His perfect son. His son with – what was it called, oh yes, - Asperger's. He was relying on her to help him. Draco didn't want to be rude to her, but it was a habit. He thought back to how it was established.

They were both eleven, sitting in the Potions classroom. Snape had been quizzing Potter mercilessly, and she refused to put her hand down. Her hair seemed to have exploded out of her head and she was doing some sort of dance in her seat, bouncing and waving the hand. Zabini had poked him from behind whispering 'That's one of the Mudbloods.' And that was that, he hated her. He furrowed his brow at how simple-minded it was. His father wouldn't like her, so neither would Draco.

Draco noticed she was talking to him, cautious with her words. He hadn't caught any of it. "Could you repeat that? I'm…sorry. I was distracted." There was that internal block, making him struggle with the word sorry. He could hear his father's voice 'You APOLOGIZED to a Mudblood?'

Hermione restrained from rolling her eyes. It was so typical of the prat to ignore her. She reasoned with herself, his son has just been diagnosed with something he doesn't understand. She heaved a breath and began again. "It's a developmental disorder. It prevents proper social and communication skills."

"Leo already told me that." He said, his voice wavering slightly. "What can I do about it?"

She chewed on the corner of her lip. "Well, I believe its best that you get social training. A tutor, if you will. This, er, teacher will help Marcus understand proper social conduct. There are medications, but I don't think they're best. It's not something you need to cover up; you only need to work with it. Anyways, it's all non-wizarding medication." Hermione didn't know how this would affect him, but she had to remind him all was not forgotten. His words still hurt, and she hoped her punch still did.

"Nevermind where it comes from, you wouldn't use it on your child?" Draco said, slightly stung at her words. She had seemed to gain no respect for him. It was as if her testimony had fell under her obligation to honesty, and not that she thought he was a better person.

"No. I don't find anything particularly wrong with the symptoms. He just needs to learn some tact." She said, almost regretting her comment. Almost.

"Well, er, Granger." Draco took in a ragged breath, his exhaustion becoming more evident as the meeting drew to a close. "You…work here, yes?" Hermione nodded, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "I, erm, don't really know anyone else who understands this disease. So could you, uh, work with him?"

Hermione's narrowed eyes broadened with surprise. She took a long pause, thinking about her answer. He took this time to look at the change since the war. The last time he had seen her was his family's trial, where she told the crowd that Draco and Narcissa had nothing to do with her torture and they switched sides in the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. Then, she had looked so stiff. Her face was hard, forcing herself to be emotionless as she recounted her time in Malfoy Manor. Then, she had been clad in a somber, all black outfit. Her eyes were red, her hair hung limp, and she still had cuts and bruises on her face.

Now, Granger looked softer, more feminine. She was wearing a white button down and knee-length navy skirt. Her hair was pulling back in a tousled knot. Her skin was now clean, no lasting scars, with just a smattering of freckles across her nose. All in all, she was pretty. Beautiful, really. She began to speak, snapping Draco from his appraisal.

"I only come here once a month." Hermione spoke slowly, as if she still hadn't decided if it was the right thing to say. "Otherwise, I teach at Hogwarts."

"I'll pay you. We'll work around your schedule." He insisted. "Let's go get coffee and work out the details."

"I…I can't." She stammered, flabbergasted. Draco Malfoy was the last person she would ever expect an invitation from. "My class is here."

"Tomorrow. When are you finished with classes?"

"Uh, my last class ends at three, but I usually plan my classes for the next day after. That makes it four."

"Four-thirty then?" When she nodded, he stuck out his hand. Draco was determined to show he had changed, that this would be like a partnership. Maybe it would even convey the nagging guilt in the pit of his stomach, the remorse for his actions. She hadn't deserved any of the torment he'd given her.

The professor's eyes got even larger, fixed on that large, outstretched hand. Her delicate one slowly left her side, fitting itself between the fingers and thumb of Malfoy's hand. He grasped it tightly, suddenly pulling her closer. Hermione gasped audibly. She was inches from him now.

"Could he die from this?" Draco whispered desperately. This had been on his mind the whole time. He knew sometimes doctors didn't explain consequences of disease fully and he wanted to be sure. He glanced at Marcus, as if the boy was listening. His shock of brown hair was also mussed as he leaned over his book.

"No." Granger replied. He released a rush of air. His breath smelt heavily of spearmint toothpaste, and a touch like coffee. _At least he brushed his teeth before coming,_ she thought.

"Could it mean he's a Squib?" He asked solemnly, closing his eyes in preparation for the answer.

"Asperger's doesn't affect whether or not he has magic, but it makes it harder for him to manifest it." She realized she was whispering too. Draco took a deep breath in, relief evident on his face. With that breath, her smell came in as well. It was a mix of lavender and cotton, a very fresh, clean smell.

Malfoy released her hand and Hermione jumped back instantly. The air she didn't know she was holding puffed out of her lungs. "Four-thirty; would you prefer Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade?"

"D-diagon Alley." She stuttered. Why was he asking her opinion? A 'Mudblood's' opinion shouldn't matter. Then she remembered, he was relying on her. He didn't know where else to look. Hermione Granger was Draco Malfoy's first and last resort.

The blonde smiled and turned to his dark brown haired child. "Marcus? Marcus?" He questioned, but the boy was too absorbed in his reading. Malfoy knelt down, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "It's time to go and get yours chicken strips." Marcus' eyes fixed on him, seeming to slowly be pulled into this world from the one on the page. Hermione noticed her schoolmate's mouth pull into a wide smile.

Malfoy smiled at her, which she returned blandly. "Tomorrow, four-thirty, see you in Diagon Alley." He turned and exited. She quietly followed him into the corridor. She took the time to really observe his retreating back; he had gotten much taller and his hair was stuck up in all different angles. The mess of locks caused her a private smile.

Granger's brain was so fuzzy, she felt as if she had just spun twenty circles. She really wasn't sure what his intentions were. She knew his pain was real, but couldn't tell if he had put aside his Muggle and Muggle-born hatred for any other reason.

The next morning, Draco Floo'ed over to the Malfoy Manor with Marcus. He smiled at the sight of his mother, preparing tea. She didn't really enjoy house elves cooking, preferring to do it herself. The new family house elf, Georgia, only made beds and cleaned after the messes of the day. Narcissa turned, a smile brightening her face.

"Draco, my boy." She rushed over to hug him. The war had done wonders for their relationship. Narcissa had been so scared for him, hiding him whenever possible. Voldemort had many mood swings, almost like a woman, and Narcissa knew the warning signs, sending him to fetch things when they came. His mother had not shared the story of how she lied to her master in the Forbidden Forest, but Harry had told this in the trial to free Narcissa and himself. Draco had excused himself to the bathrooms after the trial, attempting to hide the trickling tears. After that, he had clung to his mother desperately, trying to show his appreciation.

"Mother, I'm sorry to call unexpectedly."

"It's always a pleasure. Tea?" She offered the kettle, pouring a cup for herself first. Draco nodded, and another cup appeared for him. In his hands, the cup looked delicate. It was small with intricate flowered patterns. "I'm assuming you need something? You looked very…concerned. Have you slept?" Narcissa asked evenly, putting some lemon in her tea.

"Er, yes, I have a favor. I did sleep, no need to worry." The blonde said, raking through his hair with his fingers. He had slept, at about three in the morning. Checking his watch now, it was 9 o'clock.

Narcissa gave him a soft smile, knowing the lie in her son's eyes. "Anything." She replied simply.

"I need Marcus to stay with you again today." Draco knew she would accept, and didn't want to inform his mother the circumstances. The only thing that they still disagreed on was the meaning of blood. Mrs. Malfoy still believed the most important part of society and 'rising to the top', as she would put it, was how pure one's blood was. She wouldn't approve of this meeting with Granger, for business or otherwise.

"Of course! He is always welcome, you know that!" She smiled at her grandson, presently sitting on the floor. His hair flopped over his face, hiding his features. "You really should give him a hair cut."

"Soon, yes Mum."

"I actually have a favor to ask of you as well." She wiggled her fingers, turning her spoon in her tea. "I am going out of town, a vacation. I haven't decided where yet, maybe Russia. I have always loved the cold. I'll be gone for a month, maybe two."

"I understand. This all has been hard on us. You deserve your time." He walked around the table to pat his mother's shoulder.

"I would request that you stay in the house, look after it for me." She said, her voice very diplomatic. "It won't be immediately. In two weeks, our…our anniversary."

Draco gave her a sad smile. "Of course, Mother. I am incredibly sorry, but I must go for now. I will be back for Marcus later this evening."

Even though their relationship had been repaired, there were three things Draco never did. The first was that he never made any intimate gesture; he was not the first to hug, the first to cry. He couldn't be. He was the man of the family now, a tower of strength. He was struggling with this instinct at the present, wanting to reach out for her. The blonde resolved to pat her hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The father knelt over his son, knowing only a small shake would rouse him from wherever his mind had brought him. He gave the shake. Both pairs of grey eyes met each other affectionately. "I need to go, you're to stay with Grandmum today." Marcus smiled, a wide, childish one. "I love you." Draco whispered. Marcus responded in the same manner.

Draco smiled at his mother and left the house to Apparate. He had research to do until four-thirty.

_Young child with dreams,_

_Dream every dream on your own_

_When children play, seems like you end up alone._

_Held my hand out, I let her take me._

_Blind as a child,_

_All I saw was the way she made me smile._

Shilo – Neil Diamond

**A/N: **So the song, I know it's sad and about a really screwed up father/son relationship but that's now how I mean it. The first part it how Draco doesn't know how to help Marcus, therefore he's alone and the second is that Hermione has come to show Draco how.


	6. Underdog

**CHAPTER SIX: UNDERDOG**

Hermione had been trying to focus solely on her lessons, but she could not get her mind off of whatever could happen at four-thirty. She would be teaching, but something about the lesson or student she was speaking with would make her think of what would come. She would be teaching her second years the charm to change animals into goblets and remember her own experience that year. Draco had been excessively mean that year, with the Chamber opening.

The time seemed to trickle by as she distractedly instructed students on proper technique of transforming ones hair color and skin tone for her seventh years. Then she had a similar lesson with sixth years, but it was the color of an animal.

Finally, she made it to lunch, which would be an hour of thinking. All these memories came flooding back. Surprisingly enough, Hermione remembered that her first year, she found Draco rather…cute. In an eleven year old way, of course. He hadn't begun his torment upon her yet, seeing her as just another student. No, Ron had been far worse that year. Hermione admitted that the next year, the roles had been reversed. Draco became the bully and Ron had become much nicer.

All her thinking had carried her straight up to her rooms in the school. The professor opened the door and she knew exactly what she was looking for before making her way to the Great Hall. She checked her watch; it was about one o' clock. She had an hour to eat and prepare for her next class.

The brunette's office was sleek, full of chestnut desks and chairs, and even a pair of sofas for students to sit on should they need to visit her. The essentials for tea were lurking in a corner, with small treats stowed in the drawers of the small dresser the kettles were on. A spiral staircase led up to her bathroom and bedroom, also chestnut, but as far as Hermione could remember only Ginny had been up there before. On the back wall, behind the staircase, were bookshelves as high as the ceiling and packed to the brim.

Miss Granger knew exactly where the books she needed would be, stowed at the top. Flicking her wand, two books were pulled gently from the top shelves and floated down slowly. Soon, her concentration slipped back to that afternoon and the volumes thudded to the ground. She sighed, looking at the titles. _Asperger's Syndrome: A Guide for Parents and Professionals _by Tony Attwood and _The Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome_ also written by Mr. Attwood. Hermione slipped them into the travelling bag that she used for outings and proceeded to the Great Hall, many things on her mind.

"Hey…HEY!" The woman's head turned at the last and loudest word. Harry was jogging around students that she had not noticed flooding the halls. They gave him wide stares, parting for him to catch up with his friend. "I was just looking for you."

Hermione felt the heat creeping into her cheeks. It was unwarranted, but she couldn't forget the last time she saw him she was drunk and terribly upset. She gave him a small smile. "Yes?" She prodded slightly, when his silence was becoming annoying. Her relationship with him had changed. He was still her best friend, better than Ginny, but he was torn with the rift forming between Hermione and Ron.

"Oh, I just wanted to eat with you is all." He refused to look her in the eyes, proving to Hermione that there was something more going on. She silently walked behind them, falling into an easy and familiar rhythm. The brunette was happy that her friendship with him was comfortable both spoken and silent.

When they reached the Great Hall, Harry loaded two plates and nodded to the Staff Room door, behind the teacher's table in the Hall. All the other teachers were seated in the main hall, watching the students. The Staff Room consisted of at least a dozen small tables circled by chairs, a large chart featuring squiggly lines depicting who was patrolling what section of the castle at what time. The arrows were colored differently for each professor; Hermione had a copy containing only her deep orange arrows tacked to her wall.

"I know you Harry…what is it?" The witch said, trying to keep her tone from the realm of accusation. Her friend sat down the plates and pulled out a chair, gesturing for Hermione to sit. She did, somewhat reluctantly.

"How was the St. Mungo's trip?" The black-haired man asked, putting some potatoes into his mouth. She knew this wasn't what needed to be discussed, nor what he wanted to discuss. She huffed, trying some pudding. Vanilla, her favorite.

"It was…interesting." Hermione knew she couldn't tell the details of her assignment after seeing to her students; she couldn't explain why she was having coffee with Mr. Draco "Ferret" Malfoy after classes. Another thing she knew for absolute fact: bringing up this coffee date – no, she scolded herself internally, coffee meeting – would lead to nothing but questions. The brunette held her tongue.

"How is Cecilia?" One of the few things Hermione could explain is that there was a lovely woman named Cecilia who was going to die because of the illness she had. Mostly, this was because she knew the old woman as a friend, although after becoming an assistant medi-witch to her.

"She could be doing a lot better. Leo says she'll go soon." Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She didn't have time to go back and talk to the woman; Leo had kept her constantly busy until it was time to round up the students.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry." She thanked him and proceeded to eat.

After a while, she looked up. "What do you think of Briar?"

Harry chewed, slowly. It was as if he was thinking of the right reply. "She's very nice, caring, and pretty." Seeing Hermione's face fall into a frown, he quickly added. "But, you know how Ron is with women. She'll be gone by next week."

Hermione shrugged, rolling her neck back to crack it. "This is the first time he's brought a date to dinner. That's got to count for something." She stabbed a piece of chicken extra viciously.

"Probably to make you jealous."

The brunette snorted. "Yeah, that's got to be it." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly."

"I hate that the two of you barely speak!" Harry growled. "You two were better off just friends; both of you need to move past this."

The Boy Who Lived got up and left. Hermione stared at his half-eaten plate as it magically disappeared.

Four fifteen pm. Hermione saw these numbers on her watch and decided it was time. She had spent an hour going over her lesson plans and the last fifteen minutes writing to Ginny. When she got home from this, she would stop by Harry's office. He usually stayed very late and she could apologize for her obsessing over Ron.

Hermione stood up from her writing table in her bedroom. Crossing the room for her cloak, she paused looking at herself in the mirror. Her hair was messily tossed on her head, frizz protruding from every angle. She was wearing a pair of gray slacks and an indigo button down. Her eyes had some dark circles from stress and lack of sleep. She looked much older than twenty-four.

_This is as good as it's gonna get._ The brunette thought to herself, ignoring further scrutiny in favor of her travelling cloak and bag. She spun on her heel, crossing the room a second time for the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and cried "Leaky Cauldron." She stepped into the green smoke.

_Don't be so nervous!_ Draco scolded himself. He sat at the bar of The Leaky Cauldron, sipping on water. Five or six books were stacked on the stool beside him. He had stopped at the Muggle bookstore, although its selection of books on Asperger's disappointed him. He bought a copy of everything they had in stock.

Every couple of minutes, the blonde looked towards the entrance from the street, expecting to see a mass of bushy curls. That's what he got for being twenty minutes early and not picking a proper place to meet.

Malfoy heard the crackle of the fireplace. He assumed Tom had just turned set the grate alight; the weather had been getting chillier as of late. He took another drink from his glass.

"Malfoy." The voice wasn't particularly close, but Draco still jumped a bit. He turned to the amused smile of Miss Hermione Granger. So much for a subtle scare, he must've obviously tensed. Malfoy stood, turning to her.

"Granger. Er, thank you for meeting me." He cleared his throat, extending his hand. It was a stiff gesture and he wasn't quite sure why he did it. He knew extra politeness wouldn't cover the apology he needed to voice. And soon. His guilt had been nagging at him over the past twenty four hours.

Hermione raised her eyebrow, cocking her head. What was he doing? She lightly accepted his hand, shaking it quickly before releasing her grip. "You're…you're welcome." She stuttered. Why had seeing him all of the sudden made her so…different. Normally, she prided herself on speaking very well and now stuttering? That wasn't acceptable professor/consultant behavior.

"Shall we go? You mentioned coffee?" The brunette said, regaining focus. She looked up at him (_My, he's gotten tall._ She noted internally.), her head still tilted questioningly to the side. Malfoy nodded sharply, grabbing his collection of books and leading the way out into Diagon Alley.

Draco explained how he knew the new owner of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Shoppe and how he had decided to turn it into an all-around café. It now served coffees, baked goods, and still carried enchanted no-melt ice cream. Hermione nodded; slightly bored by the way he described it – all business. She was fascinated by his body language. He looked more agitated than ever, his pace jerky and his voice cracking. He kept glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. He was acting…guilty.

_What could he possibly be so nervous about?_ She questioned. Then it struck her: He didn't like being seen with her. A Muggle born.

_It comes and goes, like the strength in your bones._

_So keep your mind at rest, I'll never let_

_The two of us be friends._

_I never take advice from my friends_

_In very high places._

Underdog – You Me At Six

**A/N: **I hope you like this one and I PROMISE that the next chapter will be all about their interaction at the coffee shop! The first part I took from the song is for Hermione's realization he doesn't want to be seen with her (whether that's true or not…). The second is how she is messing with her friendships by not really getting over Ron. Thanks to my beta AussieGleekFreak91. IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: We have our first fan art (yeah, I requested it but still): . Made by perfectlyslytherin on Tumblr. THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH! It is amazing. Please read and give me feedback; I'm completely open to song suggestions still!


	7. Headlines Read Out

**CHAPTER SEVEN: HEADLINES READ OUT**

They reached the pub with little conversation. Hermione's walls were up, after noticing how he was staying a tense distance from her. _What were you thinking? We'd never actually be friends. This is just business._ She repeated the last sentence like a mantra. Business, business, business. She was fooling herself to think they could maybe come to decent terms.

Draco opened the door for her, a bell tinkling in the frame. Hermione nodded curtly, a scowl fixed upon her features. He wrinkled his brow, following her in. _Maybe the chill was just getting to her. We weren't walking very fast._ Draco reassured himself.

Draco chose a small two seat table in a corner, much more intimate than required for the meeting. Hermione's thought of the table was that it would be hard to see them from the rest of the shop. _Exactly the way he'd want it._ She rolled her eyes as he pulled out a chair, taking her order before vanishing to get the coffees.

The brunette rubbed her temples. How could she get herself in this mess? Obviously he was only nice before because he was completely broken down. He was using her.

Just business.

"Granger." Draco said quietly, passing her a coffee and taking a sip from his own mug.

"Thank you." The witch's voice was strained. "Now, what do you want from me?" She hadn't meant to sound so hostile, but she couldn't hide her distaste.

"You know.." The blonde's voice was quiet. He searched her face with his gray eyes for a sign as to why she had become so cold. Maybe she was just the complete know-it-all bitch he thought she was throughout school. After a minute of two of silence, he knew she was making him explain. "Marcus. This Asperger's, you said it is most apparent on the social skills of the person –" He paused for confirmation and received it in the form of a sharp nod.

"Since you work in the Uncureable Department –"

"I only consult. Once a month. I have other responsibilities."

Draco's temper was flaring. "Well, since you CONSULT –" He added some emphasis, grinding his teeth a little bit. "And you're the only one I know who understands the disease and seems to know how to help it. I need you to…teach him. Help him learn wrong from right, in a social context."

"Of course, you wouldn't want him having my actual belief system." Hermione hissed, her eyes gleaming with reproach.

"What is that supposed to mean?" His whisper was filled with equal venom.

"He might accept people for who they are, not their blood."

"And you're saying I don't?" The wizard growled, his voice low.

Hermione fixed him with a harsh stare. "You've only teased me, no, TORTURED, me about being a Muggle-born for six fucking years." He was slightly taken aback by her language.

"God, Granger. That was before I could even Apparate. Technically, it was only five. I didn't give a shit about your blood my sixth year. I was a little busy trying to avoid death."

"Trying to murder someone." She corrected, matter-of-factly.

"To avoid death."

Silence filled the air. It was thick with their animosity. Hermione glared at her coffee. She had so many insults she wanted to throw at him, but decided to bite her tongue. Instead, she gradually raised her eyes to meet his. He looked…incredibly pained. _Because he might not get what he wants._ She assured herself. "Why don't you just hire a Muggle? A specialist."

Draco looked at her with a little bit shock; she had seemed to at least tolerate the idea before today. Now, she wanted to stay away from the situation it seemed. Her sudden change of heart for the negative made his blood boil. "Because if he's magic he might blow him into fucking bits!"

A return to silence. Draco wanted to apologize as soon as he'd spat the words out. He wished he could have kept his composure. Now, she'd never help him. Now, he'd never get to apologize. It was too complicated to change the way things had been set up, the cards they'd been dealt. Maybe if fate had allowed him to talk to her before hearing about her blood, he wouldn't feel guilty. He'd hate her because she was a prissy bitch maybe. A better reason than this immovable prejudice, a worse taboo than Voldemort, he couldn't speak about it.

Hermione huffed, all her remaining rage spilling out in the rush of air. She would help. But not for him, for Marcus. Marcus, the sweet boy who told her all about the book he was reading with no qualms as to her blood. She wouldn't let Malfoy corrupt him. The witch pulled the books out of her back, slamming them on the table.

"This is the man I've talked to about the condition." She said, ignoring a snide comment about Malfoy's gaping mouth. She noticed the hurt was still lingering in those deep gray eyes. "He's not magical, but he understands the disease very well; he gave me these books. They're helpful."

Draco pulled out his own stack of books, looking through them. He pulled the exact same books out of the middle. "I've got it covered." He laughed slightly, put his heart wasn't in it.

Hermione tried to hide the amused smile that wanted to creep up. At least he did his research… She pulled the books back to her bag. _Business, business. He is a prat. He is just using you._

"And what do these books recommend?" Draco noticed conflicting emotions ripple over her face, but ignored them. _Maybe she just wants to leave._

"Sessions. It's basically like teaching a language, except it'll be more difficult. Socializing is all about nuances, behavior, body language, how you say something, what you say." Hermione explained. "It'll be difficult, but he's still young. It can be done."

"How often do you suggest?"

"Once a week, for an hour." She answered concisely. Hermione's face changed to one of pondering. "Although, I must spend some time with him first. Get him used to me, see what we need to work on." Draco nodded.

"Should I be in for them?" The wizard asked curiously.

"Oh. OH!" She gasped. Her voice dropped. "I don't know…I was never invited in."

"Invited where?" He only heard the one word of her mutterings.

"Er, sorry. I was talking to myself." Hermione wrinkled her nose; he found it rather attractive. "But yes, you can be in there for it." She said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

The former Gryffindor watched his eyes as he thanked her. He was genuine, but something was still lingering there. It was making her curious; she assumed it was his annoyance at getting help from her, but it looked more delicate than that.

She let the silence fall over them again; this one more anxious. She didn't think she could work with him until she figured out if he still carried the same prejudices as before. If he hated her, and she was just a convenience, this wouldn't work.

"Malfoy." Her voice came out crisp, like a business woman. It was just business after all.

"Yes, Granger." Draco's drawl sounded so natural saying her last name, minus the previous bitterness.

"What is it? You're….flustered, agitated."

"Well, this isn't the most common situation. I didn't plan this to be on my monthly schedule."

Hermione frowned, scoffing. "So, it's me then, is it?"

"No!" He amended quickly. "As you said, I'm flustered. I don't know how to explain this."

"Explain what?"

"Where to start?"

"The beginning." She glared.

"First year, Potions Class. The first one of the term and you were practically doing a dance in your seat while Snape called on Scarhead –"

"Don't call him that. He helped keep you out of prison." She snapped, her voice permeated with venom.

"Potter." He amended. "Doesn't change the fact that, you were jumping around waving your hand like it was on fire. Blaise tapped me on the shoulder and said that you were one of the few Mud – Muggle borns – that started the same year as me. It's the way I was raised to hate non-purebloods."

"What are you trying to say? I don't need a history lesson of when you began to want me dead."

"Granger! I never wanted you dead. I couldn't like you, at all. You were everything that I was taught to detest. None of it, none of the things I said had any…meaning. Sure, at the time, it seemed like I truly wanted to ridicule you. I guess I did, but I was a terrible person. I'm not as terrible now; I'd like to hope. The war, my sixth year. It all changed me."

"Look it's the past." The brunette said, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. "There's really nothing you can do to reverse –"

"I-I'm sorry."

"What?" She looked up at the interruption, not catching his words.

"I owe you an apology." He repeated. "Kids are exceptionally cruel and I was one of the worst, if not THE worst."

"I agree." She rolled her eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry!" Draco sighed. "I have felt extraordinarily guilty since I saw you yesterday. You never deserved all the times I was cruel. We'd never even talked and I had this prejudice. I refused to even look at you first year; internally, I knew I'd be excessively cruel…to make my father proud."

"Don't talk about him or your aunt around me. No matter what." She tensed.

"Alright…do you accept my apology?"

Hermione closed her eyes tightly, wrinkling her nose again. She drummed her fingers on the table. "Y-yes."

"Thank you." Much to the Gryffindor's surprise, Malfoy set his hand on top of hers. "You really didn't deserve it."

_Stay for a moment and I promise that I will be different._

_And you'll see, wait, wait, I'll show you._

_There is more to this if you will listen._

_And you will soon believe._

Headlines Read Out – We the Kings

**A/N: **This is a very quick update, so I hope it's quality. I will be very busy for the next week or two. My grandmother is having a surgery. It may be a while before I update. Thanks to AussieGleekFreak91 for her marvelous work. Please read & review!


	8. Unwinding Cable Car

**CHAPTER EIGHT: UNWINDING CABLE CAR**

Hermione's eyes zeroed in the contact that their skin made; feeling prickles of heat from his hand. "Look, I…I appreciate this and I accept your apology but that can't change the things that you've said about me. I remember all the things you've said and done to me and they were terrible."

"But it does. It makes a huge difference! What I said…all of it. It wasn't out of spite or hatred; it was merely because that is the…I don't know how to explain this. It is what was expected me. By everyone." He gestured wildly, his hand leaving hers. "I hate Potty and Weasel much more than you."

Hermione's tenseness dissipated. "I can't say I understand how being a tormentor was your duty. But I have accepted your apology. We're out of the context of school. Let's not bring it up again."

"I couldn't agree more. Thank you." Malfoy ruffled his hair, letting out a sigh. He couldn't say that the conversation went as expected but it didn't necessarily take a turn for the worse. She hadn't gushed about how happy she was that he was sorry. Although, the know-it-all Granger he knew wasn't one to gush about anything other than learning.

Hermione noticed all the tension left Malfoy's body. He looked relaxed…if not comfortable. Something was still nagging at the back of her mind. "Why are we sitting back here? In the most secluded part of the place."

"No one knows about the condition Marcus has and I'd prefer to keep it that way. Firstly, I signed a privacy agreement and there aren't many ways to explain how you became involved in his health."

"Because, heaven forbid, you actually would seek me out to help." Hermione snapped.

"Actually, I probably would have. You're the only Muggle-born I know and none of my friends took Muggle Studies." He replied, as if it was a joke.

"Of course not." She actually was amused with the thought of seeing Crabbe or Goyle in the class. "What's secondly?"

"If Astoria found out, she would go crazy. She'd have to be sent to a loony bin, though I doubt that's far off." The blond scoffed at the idea.

Hermione nodded, as if she was all-knowing. She had read about 'the fantastic match that would be favorable to both the Malfoy and Greengrass lineage.' A quote taken directly from Rita Skeeter's report on their engagement announcement. The report on their wedding, however, never followed. Rita didn't even brag about getting an invitation. However, Hermione didn't exactly want to enter the realm of his marriage or non-marriage to that woman.

"When shall we meet again?" Draco asked, draining his coffee cup. Hermione looked at her own, almost untouched piece of china. She couldn't even imagine eating or drinking anything. She probably would have spat all of it out when he apologized.

This made her pause. She decided to wait and pretend to think. The brunette looked around the coffee shop. It had a very modern feel, with glistening floors of black and white tile. A very utilitarian counter was in the front of the room for serving coffee and ice cream to patrons. The only touch of antiquity was the old brown cash register. Hermione was slightly shocked that so much Muggle had been incorporated into the Wizarding World since the war.

"Well, the only conflicts with my schedule are dinner with Harry, Ginny, and Ronald on Friday." Her voice was particularly icy for the last name. "Then Saturdays, I visit my parents and a friend from the hospital. I've already told you that my prep work lasts until about four every evening and, of course, I'm scheduled for patrolwork…"

Draco looked at Hermione, eyeing the witch with an amused expression as she continued babbling about plans. It seemed odd that her vocal tendencies had stayed from school, the long winded discussions and general nagging. He'd heard her telling Potter and Weaselbee no on countless occasions; her excuse was always the same: homework. Also, her infamous study tables really had been a laugh for the Slytherin house. Scheduling study time, they all found it ludicrous.

The brunette suddenly stopped her lecture. "What?" She snapped at him. He was staring at her in a silly eyed fashion. She wrinkled her brow, quickly turning to wipe her nose and teeth just for good measure.

"You haven't changed a bit." He chuckled. The former serpent knew this was a lie. He noticed the hollowness around her eyes, whether it came from tears, lack of sleep, staring at parchment all day, or a combination of the three.

"I don't see how you would know." She stated dryly, trying to keep some anger out of her voice. How dare he come and judge her actions, compared to who she was seven years ago.

"Honestly, you really don't know how loud you can be!" This time he full-on laughed. Granger chuckled as well, rolling her eyes at first.

"As I was saying before being so _rudely_ interrupted," Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I would prefer to meet on Wednesday and Thursday evenings. I believe sessions would last for an hour at the most, but I'll have to plan what I should be working on."

"I think Thursday is best for me. There are usually Quidditch matches on Wednesdays that I must cover." He explained. "But you'd prefer next Thursday, as opposed to this coming one."

"Yes, it'll allow me to get all of my affairs in order and have some exercises in mind." She nodded. "Although, I must explain a few things to you beforehand and ask you some questions, which we can do this coming week on Wednesday or Thursday."

"Why don't we just do it now?" Malfoy said, shrugging. "Marcus doesn't expect me home until 9 o'clock anyways."

Hermione glanced at an ornate brass clock attached to the wall. Quarter to six, she read. She thought desperately for an excuse, but had none. There were no papers to be graded; the first years were due to turn theirs in on Friday and the rest of the students were given more practical homework. "I'll need to write some things down."

"Then why don't we go back to my place?" He suppressed a grin and her eyes enlarged with shock and a flush crept on to her cheeks. The blonde observed that the uptight woman across from him was actually quite beautiful, minus all the time she spent with her mouth open gabbing.

"N-no." She sputtered, still embarrassed at the thought of being in a Malfoy house. "Let's just go to my office at Hogwarts."

"Alright." Draco replied, cheerily. He dropped two sickles on the table for their coffees and grabbed all the assorted books that they had yet to look at. "How shall we get there? The Apparition wards are surely still in place. Is there a fire in your office?"

Hermione nodded, distracted by his sudden change to such a sunny disposition. He had never been this cheerful in school. The smile on his face made him so much more attractive, his grey-blue eyes gleaming, and his Quidditch players body more relaxed than she'd ever seen it before. She wondered if cheerfulness would have the same effect on her own tense frame.

The pair emerged out of the fire into the Transfiguration classroom. She had ensured that no students would come looking for her at all that afternoon with an enchanted sign that said she was out attached to her office door. Hermione unlocked the office with a much more complicated charm than 'Alohamora' and stepped inside.

Malfoy watched the purple ink on the sign fade and be replaced by blue that said 'In a Meeting: Please Leave a Note' in elegant handwriting, that he assumed was her own. He entered the office, taking in its lovely furniture and large case of books. It wasn't as elegant and overstated as the Manor's library, but it was cozy.

A shot of sparks flew from Hermione's wand tip into the other fire, making a crackling noise and warming the room from its cool September air. Another flick from her wand and the window was opened just a crack. Malfoy raised his eyebrow at the combination of two opposite actions.

"I put a filter charm on the window so the smoke goes out but the heat stays in." Hermione said simply. It was obvious that she felt as if he, and everyone else, would have also benefitted by returning for their seventh year. "Anyways," She began and she twirled around to sit at her desk. "I have a couple of questions. Just to be sure that we have the right diagnosis."

"Why couldn't Leo have ask these at the fucking hospital if you're not sure?" Draco hissed, still incredibly sensitive about the situation.

"He doesn't know as much about it as I do. Now, does he have meltdowns and throw tantrums very often? He didn't in the hospital because the walls are permeated with calming charms." The brunette said, calmly dealing with his protests. She was ruffling around in her desk until, she pulled out an ink vial, a strange paper item, and odd parchment.

"Loads of times. If something doesn't go his way unexpectedly, he yells. If someone touches him other than me, he yells. If someone messes with his books, he yells." Draco said flatly; he had assumed this was just normal child behavior. "He yells. A lot."

Hermione scratched the answer in with her quill. Draco was fascinated by the parchment. It was white as snow with blue lines and a single red line intersecting them. It looked flimsier than parchment. "It's paper. Muggle paper." The woman said, eyeing him as if he would refuse to have his son documented in that way. "This is a folder." She took the other object and flipped it open to show two pockets, big enough to fit the 'Muggle paper'.

Draco nodded slowly then urged her to continue. As she wrote, he looked for more Muggle artifacts. There was a box with a screen in the corner that he hadn't noticed before. Next to it was a large black device with heaps of buttons and a large slot and small slot. Probably a Muggle proofreader or something for papers, he shrugged.

"Well, how about eye contact? Does he make eye contact?" She asked, returning to her notes.

"Never. The closest he comes is looking at my nose or forehead." Scribble, scribble.

"And…" She began slowly. "Talking, what does he talk about?"

"Well, he speaks very slowly most of the time. He talks about books and authors a lot. He knows tons of facts and he'll rattle them off to anyone. I can't exactly bring him to a Quidditch match." More scribbles.

"Does he have…mmm, how to put it –" She chewed on her quill feather tentatively. "Obsessions? For example, was he extremely interested in anything before reading and books?"

"Witch trials." Draco replied omninously. "He was particularly obsessed with that witch that had allowed herself to be caught by Aurors because she liked the tickling sensation." Again the scribbling noise.

"Wendelin the Weird." Hermione corrected. "Actually, she wanted to be captured by Muggles and when they tried to burn her, it tickled."

"Always the know-it-all." He replied, a hint of humor in his voice. "As you can see, he wasn't the best at dinner parties."

"You had dinner parties?" Hermione gasped. "That would be terrible for him."

"He threw tantrums then as well."

"As expected. He has all the tendancies of the condition. My suggestion is to keep him on a schedule, not throw in too much change. Let him know early that I will be meeting with him every Thursday at, say, 5." The former Gryffindor's tone was business like as she slid the papers into the folder.

"Thank you, Granger." The man whispered, his emotions suddenly flooding him. Hermione knew he was afraid, and it touched her. She felt a pang of sadness and longed to assure him that she could change things, but she was almost equally afraid that she couldn't.

"You're welcome, Malfoy." Her voice was soft. "I will see you next Thursday." And she escorted him back to the fire.

As soon as they left each other's presence, singe tears rolled down their cheeks.

_Emotive unstable, you're like an unwinding cable car._

_Listening for voice, but it's the choices that make us who we are._

The Unwinding Cable Car – Anberlin

**A/N:** Sorry updating has taken so long. My grandma's surgery is at the end of the month and we've had a ton of meetings on what to do to stay down there. Please pray for her.

Anyways, this is a great song. It doesn't describe the situation exactly, but it conveys the feelings. Please listen to it and keep suggesting.

Beta credit to AussieGleekFreak91.


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